Page 40 of Stalked By Shadows
Micah hesitated for a minute before stepping into my embrace and laying his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him. Holding tight, rocking him lightly. He’d been through a lot, no one could be strong forever, and enough bad turns could make anyone think the universe was out to get them. I’d thought that a time or two myself, only to be reminded over and over again that, “I’m really not all that special. None of us are. We aren’t saving the planet or humanity, we aren’t changing the world, we are barely making it through each day. But you know what?” I asked him as I ran my fingers through his hair. “That’s okay. We are doing the best we can being us. Even if it’s seeing or hearing weird shit, that’s a quirk of being us.”
It made me think hard about what Lukas had said. I didn’t need to understand what I’d experienced to keep going. And maybe knowing the truth would make it harder to move forward. “I thought for a while that if I leaned too hard on Lukas he’d leave, you know?” I said.
Micah tensed against me. Recognition, I think, of what he felt every day.
“We fear being a burden to others and so we bury our emotions and fears until it breaks us. I’ve been working on that. Trying to let it out more. Was a big ninny earlier today because I’d been letting the stress eat at me. But I had a big baby cry with Lukas and then a nap, which made me feel better.”
“Big baby cry?” Micah asked.
“Crocodile tears and everything,” I assured him. “Just because I was a soldier doesn’t mean I don’t cry. Hell, I’ve cried a lot, even while serving. Sometimes covered in the ash of human life you’d have tears streaming down your face, gun in your grip, trying to find a way to the exit, hoping to survive and die all at once.” He looked up at me. I traced a thumb down his cheek, wiping away a shed tear. “You talked about thriving, right?”
He nodded.
“Let’s work on that. Both of us. Find a balance between this,” I indicated to the room that now felt more like a frenzy of trying to escape memories than a treasure trove, “to the beauty of this,” I indicated the jacket I wore.
“I don’t understand,” Micah said.
“One complete project equals something a million people could never dream of doing. Maybe spending every moment trying to perfect it doesn’t matter as much as the practice of making something and completing it if even one person enjoys it?” I looked around the space seeing a lot of incompletes. “How do you feel when you finish something?”
“Sad,” Micah said. “Often like a failure because it didn’t work out like I thought it would in my head.”
“Yet, here I stand in a masterpiece, which I would wear proudly every day for the rest of my life if I could.”
“You’d melt in this city.” He was trying to distract me from the topic.
“Was this a failure?”
“It wasn’t exactly how I pictured it.”
“Yet I love it. And it’s well worth melting in,” I said putting my hands on my hips in a superman pose. “To feel like a superhero.” I grinned at him. “What’s your favorite piece?”
His gaze went to the costume section. “A Lolita style Frozen dress that I did after the Sky thing. It’s in her size, but I’ve been too afraid to show it to her.”
I glanced at the shelf, having to think for a minute before the meaning of his words translated into something that made sense to me: Frozen, the kids movie; Lolita in cosplay fashion usually meant a dress with lots of layers of lace. There was a blue dress on the end that looked like it had tulle and stuff on it, sort of like ice. I reached for it and pulled it off the rod, holding it up on the hanger. Yeah, that had to be it. It was small enough to fit Sky’s tiny frame.
“Looks like it would be the perfect Ice Queen adaptation,” I told Micah. I turned the dress, marveling at the detail of layers of gem-like beads, lace, and a shawl that appeared crocheted from metallic thread. This dress had likely taken him weeks and here it sat gathering dust.
“Do you have one of those dress bags? We should wrap it up and bring it to Sky.”
Micah gaped at me. “But…”
“You made it for her, right? Was it for any special occasion? A birthday or anything? Or more an ‘I thought this would look cool on you’ sort of thing?”
He flushed. “The latter.”
“Okay. Do you normally give her stuff that you make?”
“She has a few shawls, purses, and a quilt.”
“But nothing this elaborate?”
He glanced away and shook his head.
“Then let’s bring it to her. I bet she is going to think this is the most amazing thing in the world.” I ran my hand over the rows of costumes. “These are all amazing. You are very talented.”
“There are people a lot more talented than me.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “That’s the way of life. There will always be someone better than you at anything you do. But that’s okay. You learn something from each piece, right? Even if it’s about yourself? I should tell you about this Optimus Prime thing I created for a Comic Con when I was a teen. It was inspired, but really lacking in skill. Though I had a bazillion people ask for my picture. I felt amazing and like a fraud all at once.”